


Haunted Sodor

by Multiple_Fandom_Writer



Series: Stories from Sodor [2]
Category: Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Ghosts, Look I'm writing ghost stories and reliving my childhood okay?, Sodor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24728167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Fandom_Writer/pseuds/Multiple_Fandom_Writer
Summary: Stories in a haunted Sodor.
Series: Stories from Sodor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876048
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. Overview

The Island of Sodor is a beautiful place to be. From stunning mountain scenery to locomotives of all shapes, sizes, and engine types. 

However, when the mist rolls in, on a dark night, or even on a rainy day, engines will tell stories about ghosts. Some of these stories are true. Some of these stories aren't. 

This...is Haunted Sodor.


	2. Book 1: Mainline Haunts

It was a misty day on the Island of Sodor. Winter had come earlier than expected, and with it came the fog. One day, Boco was traveling down the Wellsworth branchline, more commonly called Edward's Branchline, with a goods train. He was heading towards Knapford, ready to drop off his train, and pick up a new one. 

Boco rounded a curve, and his driver slammed on the brakes. For right in front of him was a red signal! "That's odd," his driver remarked. "We're the only train on the line." 

Boco sighed. "We'll just wait it out," he said. Then he heard a shrill whistle, but it was so faint, and unfamiliar, that he couldn't place it. 

"That's odd," his driver said, scratching his head. "We're supposed to be the only train on the line tonight. Must be a goods train that departed later than usual." But Boco wasn't sure, and as soon as the light turned green, he left. But the Diesel engine wasn't sure about his driver's theory. Later that night, he asked Edward, who paled. 

"That whistle was from Alfred." Edward explained. "Alfred was an LNER B12 who had a bad accident. Next time you hear that whistle, stay at Knapford sheds, and I'll explain more." Boco was confused, but agreed. 

But he wasn't the only one to hear that whistle. The next night, James was getting ready to take a mail train to Vickerstown, while making stops on the mainline stations, only excluding Elsebridge and Tidmouth, since Percy covered them. He was simmering nicely when he heard an engine's pistons pounding. "Strange," he remarked to his driver. "We're the only ones in the yard." 

"We're supposed to be the only train in the yards right now," the red engine's driver said. "I'll check with the overnight stationmaster, maybe he'll know what's going on." With that, he walked off. A few minutes passed before he returned. "She said she heard it too. She showed me the schedule, and we're supposed to be the only ones in the yard." 

Now James was confused, but went with it. The guard blew his whistle, and the train set off. James rolled along the line, his wheels pounding as he delivered the mail to the stations. Then, at Wellsworth, he heard an odd whistle. "Sounds like a B12," he remarked to his driver. 

"Yeah, it does." His driver answered. All was silent for a few moments before there was a massive explosion. 

"What the hell was that?!?" James asked as his brakes screeched on. 

"I...I don't know," his driver stammered as he shut off steam. "We better get some constables out here, and quickly too!" Of course, the police didn't find anything, but agreed to keep a look out. James returned later the next day, confused and still slightly disoriented. 

"What's wrong James?" Edward asked, concerned. 

"I...I don't know how to explain it, but while I was in the yards by Knapford last night, I heard an engine's pistons pounding. Then, at Wellsworth, I heard an explosion." James said. Gordon, Henry, and Edward paled. "Err, what's wrong?" James asked. 

"You say you heard an explosion?" Henry asked weakly, and when James confirmed, he looked at Gordon. 

"It's almost the exact date too," Gordon sighed. "About three months before you arrived James, there was an LNER B12 named Alfred. He picked on Henry, and, a few weeks after I learned the truth, the Fat Controller made arrangements for him to be sent away. I don't know exactly what happened, but, from what Edward learned from the trucks in the yard, Alfred had a mental breakdown, and tried to murder both Henry and I. He crashed outside of Wellsworth after derailing, and, since he was pushing fuel tankers and vans, he blew up." 

The sheds were silent. "It was easily the most horrific sight Gordon and I have seen," Henry said. "For rather obvious reasons, we don't like talking about it." The next night, the sheds were respectfully silent. Naturally, the Fat Controller heard about it, and chose to say nothing about it to the press. 

After a few weeks of investigation, the police decided it was simply unexplainable, and one stated that he thought it was like the Bostian train wreck from 1891, where, reportedly, on the date of the crash the train can be seen trying to make it across the bridge. 

Out of respect for Henry and Gordon, the engines didn't say a word.


	3. Mainline Haunts: The Ghost runs at Midnight

For the next few weeks following Gordon and Henry's story, the engines were rather shaken by the events. They didn't talk about it, but one could tell it was on their minds. 

The third week after Gordon and Henry's story, James was back to his usual self, complaining about taking goods trains. One night, Donald got fed up with it. "Would ye no warry aboot yer awn self, James, if it came back tae bite ye in yer awn buffers?" Donald asked. 

Edward spoke up. "That's enough Donald." He said firmly, and Donald settled down. Edward looked up to the sky, and sighed. "It's almost that time again." He muttered to himself, and Rosie, a former USA Southern Dock Tank engine, overheard him. 

"Almost what time, Edward?" She asked curiously. The other engines looked at the former Furness Railway engine as well. 

"Alright," Edward sighed, and began his story. "During the First World War, when the North Western Railway was being built, it was only Thomas and I as the respective engines. The Other Railway, then known as the LMS, managed to send two engines over. One was the prototype for the E2 Billinton, and was named Timothy, while the other was a Caledonian Railway Class 812, who only had a number: 320." 

Just then, Thomas backed into the sheds. "Telling that story, Edward?" He asked casually. 

"Why, yes indeed." Edward chuckled, then resumed his story. "320 was a rather...reckless engine, to say the least. Thomas, Timothy and I warned her, but she took no notice. One night, 320 was scheduled to take a midnight goods train from Knapford to Barrow-in-Furness. 'Take care,' I warned her, 'one wrong move and you'll be blown to pieces.' 320 just laughed, and went on her way. 

She collected the trucks and Timothy, who had failed, and left for Barrow-in-Furness. Timothy was at the rear of the train, and was to be dropped off at Crovan's Gate for repairs. There were a few trucks of food between him and the munitions. Before the line going through what is now commonly called Henry's Tunnel was built, our mainline went through Ballahoo. It was just outside Kellsthorpe Road that 320 made her fatal mistake. 

She gave the trucks a rather violent bump, which caused the first van to explode." Edward paused, then resumed the story. "When I arrived, the scene was an awful one. Timothy was laying on his side, dazed, confused, and battered. But in the smoke and mist, I could see the charred remains of 320. 'I warned her,' I said." 

"And that is where I came in." Thomas said, and took a deep breathe. "When I arrived, Timothy was back on the rails, but was unable to move. The Fat Director ordered him to be moved to Vicarstown after being repaired to become a static display in a museum. Technically speaking, while I am the only E2 left in service, I am not the last E2." 

Rosie spoke up. "But I thought that you were the last E2, so that's why I was so nervous about meeting you." 

Thomas chuckled. "It's okay, Rosie. Besides, you're like my sister anyway. Besides, your class was better designed for shunting at docks rather than mine." Just then, Boco arrived. 

"Got a surprise for you, Thomas." He said as his driver pulled off a tarpaulin. 

"Timothy!" Thomas cried out happily, and the surviving E2s reunited. 

"I'm being returned to active service, Thomas." Timothy explained as he smiled. "In fact, the old Kirk Ronan branchline is being reopened, so I'll be doing restoration work there before I'm moved over to this 'Little Western'." 

Edward smiled, then continued the story. "The following year, a signalman was at his post when he heard a bell dinging, indicating an oncoming train. It was only a brief glimpse, but he swore it was 320, exactly one year after her death. And since then, her ghost has been reported to be at the same spot on the anniversary of her death." While the Scottish twins were rightfully disgusted with their deceased sister's attitude, James hadn't paid attention to it. 

The next day, while he was taking a stopping passenger train to Vicarstown, he pondered about the story. "Ghosts, things that go bump in the night. Rubbish!" James snorted. 

Later that day, the Fat Controller spoke to him. "James, I'd like you to take the midnight goods to the mainland tonight. Henry's taking the Flying Kipper early tomorrow morning, so won't be able to take it tonight." 

James was cross, but didn't say anything. Later that night, he was coupled up to his train. Percy pulled in with his mail train. "Evening James!" The green tank engine whistled. The two conversed for a while until it was time for James to leave. He made good time until he was just outside Kellsthorpe Road, where he had to stop due to a red signal. 

"Odd," James's driver commented. "We're supposed to be the only train on the line tonight, given how late it is." So he and the fireman got out of James's cab, walking over to the signal box. James waited impatiently. 

Then he heard the sound of an engine's pistons, but it sounded like one of the Scottish twins. "That better not be you two playing a trick on me." He said firmly. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Caledonian Railway Class 812 rush past him, vanishing a moment later. James shrieked in horror, but his crew came back a moment later. 

"We saw that ghost engine too," his fireman said. James delivered the train, then returned to the sheds. 

Out of respect, the engines kept silent.


	4. Mainline Haunts: Ghostly Whistle

It was a rainy day, and the engines had just finished a hard day's work. As they puffed back into their sheds, they began to chat about the day's events. Timothy, who had just been completely restored, also began to chat about the day's events, but his mind wasn't on it. 

Edward noticed this, and decided to ask the E2 prototype. "Something on your mind, Timothy?" He asked. 

"Yeah, but it's nothing." Timothy sighed. "Just thinking about something." 

"And that would be...?" Percy asked, and Timothy sighed again. 

"It was before the North Western Railway was formed. I worked as the station pilot once Tidmouth Station was built. Late one night, I shunted a passenger train into place for a friend to take, and his name was Alvin. 

Just like me, he was a kind, thoughtful engine. He was to take it to the final station which, at the time, was Elsebridge, for another engine to take the train down the other line. From what I learned over the years, his brakes were faulty. For some reason, his brakes failed, and he flew by the station going around thirty to forty kilometres per hour." 

"So he just flew off a bridge?" James asked. 

"The viaduct was under construction at the time, and he was still on the line. It still pains me to think of his final warning to the workmen: desperate whistles for them to get clear..." Timothy trailed off. The engines were silent. "All of his passengers were killed, along with his crew, when he ran off the bridge. Alvin died too. The following year, I was taking a passenger train to the next station. What we didn't know was that some vandals had stolen a rail. As we approached the viaduct, I heard Alvin's ghostly whistle, and naturally, we stopped. 

My driver went towards the viaduct to see if an engine like Alvin, he was a Claude Hamilton by the way, had derailed. Instead, he found out that the rail had been removed. If we'd gone over it, we would have rolled into the valley." Timothy finished. 

Edward smiled. "I remember hearing that whistle a few times, mostly when the viaduct was damaged or there was danger close by, so I guess he feels he has an obligation to protect others." Timothy smiled. 

The next day, he was taking some workmen out to the viaduct for routine maintenance, and as he passed Elsbridge Station, he could've sworn he saw the faint outline of a Claude Hamilton. Timothy smiled, knowing his old friend was protecting others.


	5. Mainline Haunts: Spirit of Knapford

Knapford Station has been the North Western Railway's terminus station for many years since its construction in 1925. Engines, big and small alike, use the station for passenger and goods services, respectively. It's also one of the most used stations the Island of Sodor has ever had, apart from Vicarstown and Crovan's Gate, respectfully. One day, it was cloudy, and Gordon waited impatiently at the platform. "Come on, Thomas," he muttered to himself. After a few moments, Thomas pulled in bunker first. 

"Sorry about the delay," the blue tank engine panted. "Had a bit of trouble getting up a hill. Percy had to come and help." 

He ran around, and waited patiently at the platform. "It's alright Thomas," Gordon said. "Remember our alliance?" 

"You help me and I help you?" Thomas said, smiling. The two engines chatted happily for a moment when Emily pulled in with the local. 

"Hello," the Single Stirling greeted the two blue engines. Gordon waited a few minutes before pulling out of the station for Arthur to clear the points with his goods train, then Thomas departed. Emily, having to take the local to Vicarstown and back again, gently shunted her coaches into a siding, then went to the turntable at the sheds. 

When she arrived back at the station, the emerald green engine could see Rosie with her coaches, shunting them into place. "Thanks, Rosie!" Emily called. The red tank engine whistled, then left to shunt Edward's goods train. Emily waited patiently for passengers to board. As she waited, she saw a man looking up at the domed, glassed ceiling, looking down to check his watch. 

Emily glanced away for only a moment, but when she looked back, the man was nowhere to be seen! Emily didn't say anything about it, figuring it was something she should ask Edward. But when the Single Stirling asked, Edward didn't know who she was talking about. "Thomas might know more about it than me," the K2 suggested. 

But Emily didn't. She was too nervous to ask. The next day, James was taking the local to Vicarstown and back before he was to take a fast goods train to Vicarstown. He grumbled dreadfully about the goods train. "Donald or Douglas can take it!" The red engine said as he waited patiently at the platform for the passengers to board. 

"Now James," his driver said. "Orders are orders, we can't disobey them." James grumbled, but looked over to his left. He saw a man looking up at the ceiling, glancing down to check his watch. 

"I wonder who he is." James muttered to himself. 

"Who?" His driver asked. 

"That man over th-" The man had vanished! "What the-I swear, I swear I just saw someone there!" James replied. 

James's driver frowned. "Well, what with all the paranormal activity going on, I think it might be safe to say that it's a ghost, although I can't tell if he's friendly or malevolent." The guard blew her whistle, and James set off. 

Later that night, at Knapford Sheds, James resolved to talk about it. "Something's not right." He said. "Earlier today, I saw a man at Knapford Station, looked away for a second, and he was gone, like he hadn't been there." 

Thomas paled, but didn't say anything. Percy, however, noticed this. "Everything alright, Thomas?" He asked. 

"N-no." The little blue engine said softly. "I knew that man when he was alive." 

"Tell us, please?" The engines asked, and Thomas began his story. 

"His name was Richard Walker. He was a gruff man who didn't like the railways since an accident cost him his father in his youth. He didn't do anything to sabotage the construction of the North Western, but he didn't do anything to help it either. 

But he was always willing to give the workmen some advice, which he did frequently. One day, however, would be his last. He was waiting for a passenger train to take him to the mainland, where he would settle down and live out his life. A few careless workmen had left a glass panel in bad condition, and he glanced up at it before looking down at his watch. 

Then, either a workman slipped and accidentally threw his tool, or a workman tossed his tool to another unsuccessfully. Either way, the glass panel fell, and the tool hit him in the head. Richard didn't suffer at all." The sheds were silent. "He was laid to rest in the nearby cemetery, and we've held a small memorial for him every year since his death. I guess since we're so close to it and haven't done anything, he's just reminding us he's here." Thomas finished. 

The engines remained respectfully silent. The next day, there was a small memorial, and no more engines reported seeing the spectre of Richard Walker.


	6. Ffarqhar Haunts: Quarry Specter

Dear friends, 

It has been some time since a story focused on the Ffarqhar branchline engines has been told. I recently visited them and learned about a few more stories that didn't make it into the Rev. W. Awdry's books, and took it upon myself to make sure these stories are told. Your friend, 

The Author. 

On Thomas's branchline, there are a few quarries in operation, such as Anopha Quarry. However, recent demands for ballast on the mainline had overworked the tramway leading up to Anopha Quarry. But no engine, aside from Thomas and Gordon, knew about the abandoned quarry near Toryreck on Thomas's branchline. 

It had been closed since the beginning of the 1970's, and the tracks were rusty and overgrown. Recently, as part of an expansion project, the quarry had been reopened, and for the first time in years, Thomas had gone down the line. 

He felt uneasy, and told the other engines about it at Knapford Sheds. "Pah!" Gordon snorted. "You're just imagining things, little Thomas." 

Thomas glared at Gordon, but before he could say anything, Edward spoke up. "He might not be imagining things, Gordon. From what I recall, Thomas has a right to be uneasy." 

And this was the story he told. 

"Years ago, the quarry had been a busy place, with engines running in and out almost hourly. They were small 'coffee pot' engines, but were reliable. One engine, however, was arrogant. His name was Samson. 

He believed he should be running passenger services, and not stuck in a quarry. One day, he'd dropped off the workmen and was waiting before an entrance to the mines for trucks to be brought out. Unknown to him, his luck was about to run out. 

Nobody knew that the points had been set to a siding with gunpowder in it, and that Samson's brakes were weak. A tank engine, who'd thought that she should move the trucks from behind Samson, accidentally hit them too hard. Samson didn't know that they were rolling towards him. 

They bashed into him and sent him flying towards the gunpowder vans. Neil was sent with a breakdown train to do the grim task. The tank engine, although feeling extremely guilty, was put on passenger services. Ever since that day, workers have reported seeing his spirit roaming around the quarry, upset that his desired duty was given to someone else. 

So, what do you think of that?" Edward asked. The engines were in awe of Edward's story. 

All, except for James. "Stuff and nonsense!" He snorted. 

Thomas glared at James, but didn't say anything. The next day, James was waiting in the sheds when the Fat Controller **(I almost put Fat ConBoulder XD)** walked up. "James," he said. "We need an engine to help out at the quarry near Toryreck. The repair traffic has increased, so they need another engine to help out until it decreases." James agreed. 

For the next few days, he helped with the construction, but one evening, the points leading to the siding he was sitting in jammed. "We can't get anyone up here until tomorrow morning," the foreman explained. "I'm afraid we're going to have to leave you here tonight, James." James sighed. 

"Good luck," Thomas called. "See you tomorrow!" James watched sadly as his crew, after shutting off steam and dampening his fire, left. Night fell quickly, and James dozed off. A few hours later, he woke up. Mist had fallen over the quarry, making it seem even more eerie. 

There was a puffing sound, and then a ghostly apparition of an engine appeared in front of James, vanishing a moment later with a shrill whistle, and a loud bang. "No!" James cried, shutting his eyes. 

The next morning, the points were mended, and James returned to the sheds, where Edward was waiting. "Don't say I didn't warn you," the wise, blue engine said. James said nothing.


	7. Ffarqhar Haunts: Elsebridge Figure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a Scottish translator. I'm not sorry.

Close to Elsebridge Station is the Els River, which Thomas's branchline travels over on its way to Ffarqhar. It is a double tracked bridge, not a common sight on branchlines, but the Ffarqhar branchline was being extended to Ulfstead, which meant that sections of the line were being double tracked in all but the weakest places. The Els Bridge is also where Thomas went fishing in 1938. 

Thomas was waiting at the station one day when Molly showed up, pulling both the local and Emily. "Emily's safety valve burst," the yellow Claude Hamilton explained, "so I offered to bring her along on the local run on the way to Crovan's Gate." 

"I understand, burst safety valves aren't anything to laugh at." Thomas replied. Then Donald arrived, pulling the _Scottish Flyer_ on its way back to Knapford. 

"Ello Thomas, Molly, Emily," the black tender engine said, then looked again. "Whit? Ah coold've sworn emily was takin' th' local." 

"I am," Molly said, adding that Emily's safety valve had burst. 

"Ah see. anyway, best gie thes train tae knapford. see ye tonecht!" Donald said, leaving after the passengers had left his train. 

Thomas smiled, then, after the guard's whistle blew, set off. What nobody knew was that the bridge needed maintenance, and badly too. Unknown to anyone, a brick fell from the bridge into the river as Thomas passed over. 

The next day, it was raining heavily, which meant the trains had to run slower in case they went too fast and derailed. It also meant that the bridge weakened just slightly more. Thomas was waiting at the platform for Molly, since Emily's safety valve had burst before she was to go in for an overhaul. "Come on," he muttered to himself. 

A few moments later, the yellow tender engine pulled in. "Hello, Thomas." She greeted despite the weather. The two chatted for a bit until the guard's whistle blew, and Thomas set off. The rain made it hard to see, so he went slower than his usual speed. 

As he went over the bridge, the tank engine could have sworn he heard a splash. Naturally, he told his crew about it, and they agreed to tell the next stationmaster, who would tell the Fat Controller. "Odd. Coulda sworn it had just been looked over." The stationmaster said. "I'll try to get a maintenance crew out later today, once it stops raining." 

But she kept her word, and informed the Fat Controller. On his return journey, the weather brightened up as he approached the bridge, and both Thomas and his crew could see a figure standing on their line. Alarmed, they braked hard, but they couldn't stop in time, and Thomas closed his eyes. 

He didn't feel anything or anyone hit him, so Thomas opened his eyes. Nobody was there. Wary, he slowly entered Elsebridge Station. 

Later that evening, he reversed into his berth at Knapford Sheds. The Fat Controller was there. "I have recently been alerted to a figure on the bridge over the River Els, and that it is in desperate need of repairs." Thomas just looked down, which James noticed. 

"What's the matter Thomas?" The vain red engine asked, concerned. 

"I...I knew th-that person when he was alive." Thomas said sadly, and everyone looked at him, confused, so he began to explain. "His name was Jack. He was a kind young boy when I first met him in 1950, holding a fascination with the railway since he was only a baby. It was rather ironic that the railway would unintentionally end his life. 

One wet, rainy day in 1955, the bridge at River Els was, just like now, in desperate need of repairs. He had a makeshift red flag he'd used from an older shirt of his as he tried to stop us...but I couldn't stop in time. I'm pretty sure you know what happened next." Thomas said mournfully. After a few deep breathes, he continued. "His mother, lost in grief, blamed me, and I don't blame her." The engines were silent as Thomas finished his story. 

Out of respect for the eager, kind boy, a plaque was placed at Elsebridge Station, reading: 'In honour of Jack Kenway, a young boy who sacrificed his life to save others.' 

Thomas is sure that whenever the bridge over the River Els is in desperate need of repair, Jack Kenway's spirit will appear, warning others to slow down.


	8. Ffarqhar Haunts: Stationmaster's Ghost

A few weeks had passed since the River Els Bridge had been repaired, and Percy was hard at work with a construction project, a new harbour for Tidmouth, so Sodor could bring in more goods and passenger ships. It was hard work, so the Fat Controller had brought in two of Percy's old friends: Jinty and Pug. They worked hard, and kept the yards in order, so the Fat Controller was considering purchasing them to work as a station pilot and a harbour engine, respectively. 

One day, Jinty had just dropped off some workers, and was resting in a siding near a disused goods station, which had a platform for the workers to board and leave the train, respectively. There were rumours it was going to be renovated, and rebuilt so workers, volunteers, and passengers could use it. He was dozing off when he heard the sound of someone walking along the platform. 

"Driver?" He asked sleepily. "Tha' you?" 

"Of course not," his driver chuckled. "I'm over here, silly!" Jinty woke up. 

"I think I just heard someone on the platform." The tank engine said. The strange occurrences didn't end there I'm afraid. Workers would report of missing tools, hearing footsteps and voices, and seeing an unknown figure walking on the platform. The Fat Controller heard about it, and decided to call the engines to Knapford Sheds. 

When they had all arrived, he began his story. "Many years ago, there was a railway running from Tidmouth to what is going to be our new harbour. The workmen were kind, since they lived close to each other, but one thing they could all agree on was the stationmaster. His name was Brian Henderson, and he was a harsh man. 

'Watch yourselves around him,' the workmen would joke, 'or Henderson will give you the boot!' Hard times came, and the little railway shut down. Henderson's life was the railway, since he had no friends or any family on the Island with him. He walked to his office, sat down in his chair, and set the office alight." The engines were silent. "I hope Mr. Henderson will be able to move on." The Fat Controller finished. 

After that, the ghostly occurrences stopped. One day after hearing about the tale of Brian Henderson and his grim demise, Jinty said to himself, "I think Brian Henderson wanted his story to be told." 


	9. Ffarquhar Haunts: The Specter of Peter Morrison

Timothy had been called in to help with the construction project in Percy's steed when his tubes failed, making friends quickly with Jinty and Pug. Just like Edward, the trucks respected him because of his kindness, and so rarely gave him trouble. One day, he had just pulled into Tidmouth with a post train, since there were towns on the rebuilt line. 

The grey E2 simmered in the sun as it shone down. His driver walked along the platform, a young woman in her prime. "Come on Timothy!" She said happily. "There's work to be done!" Just then, Thomas pulled in with his stopping passenger. 

"Careful, big brother," he said. "James derailed near the points, his trucks are blocking the line." 

It took around thirty minutes for the mess to be cleaned up, which slightly delayed Timothy, but he made up for lost time. The line to the restored harbour also went around a gem on the Island of Sodor: a gleaming crystal clear lake. Because of how hard it was to connect the line back to itself, the decision was made to run the line over itself until it was back on the planned trackbed. 

In order to prevent accidents, a station was built to control the movement of passing trains. Since it was close to a town, passengers also used it to board trains. Timothy was waiting at that station one day with a construction train, but he was nervous. "Something's not right." He said to Elizabeth, his driver. 

"Yeah," she agreed. "We'll wait until the construction crew's done, then we'll let 'em know about it." As Timothy ran around the train, he could've sworn he saw a figure standing in the window, glaring at the construction crew. 

Later that night, Timothy talked about it with Thomas. "You must've seen Peter Morrison's ghost then." Thomas said quietly. 

"Who's he?" Percy asked, and this is the story Thomas told. 

When the Tidmouth branchline was in service, the stationmaster for that part of the line was a man called Peter Morrison. Nobody working for the railway liked him, since he was always harsh to them. When the branchline fell on hard times, the decision was made to close the route to the lake. 

Peter's life was essentially ruined, and he wandered around the line for a few years after it closed. One day, he stumbled onto the line, and collapsed out of exhaustion, not seeing the oncoming train due to the heavy rain. Ever since then, he's been seen lurking around the old station, glaring at anyone who dares to enter his place of solitude. 

The engines were in awe of Thomas's story. "So that station is where his spirit chose to rest?" Timothy asked. 

"Yup." Thomas answered. 

Timothy took a deep breathe. "I think I'll try to convince him to leave, and that we'll look after the line." Later that evening, Timothy waited at the old station with a few cars of construction equipment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the specter of Peter Morrison. "It's okay," the grey E2 said kindly. "We're going to look after the line, keep it alive. You can rest peacefully." One of Peter's ghostly eyebrows rose up, then settled down as he smiled, and faded away. 

The next day, Thomas was talking with Timothy about his plan. "So it worked?" He asked. 

"Yes it did. I hope wherever he is now, he can rest peacefully." Timothy said.


	10. Haunted Wellsworth: Phantom Engine

Dear friends, 

Recently, I paid a visit to the engines of the Wellsworth Branchline, more commonly known as Edward's branchline. Just like the engines on the Ffarquhar branchline, I found out about stories that haven't seen the light of day (aside from Alfred's story in the first book of this series) until now. Edward assures me that there's more stories to be told, and the Sodor China Clay works twins told me they've had a few experiences too. Your friend, 

The Author. 

It was fairly busy on the Wellsworth Branchline. Edward and Boco were working their axles off with their trains, both passengers and goods, respectively. One day, Edward spoke to Boco. "Reminds me of the time I ran this branchline by myself. It was hard work, but I rather liked it." Edward said, thinking about the earlier days of the branchline. 

"I understand." Boco said. "That reminds me, were there any other engines who worked on this branchline?" Edward's face fell. 

"There were, but they were scrapped during the Depression." He said sadly, thinking about his old friends. While he had seen Colin and Adam in the Wellsworth scrapyard, he'd never seen Lily there. "I best get going," the NWR's number 2 said as he pulled out of the yard with a passenger service, bound for Brendam. 

A while later, he arrived in Brendam with his passengers. But he was still thinking about Lily. Unknown to him, a mist had rolled in, making it hard to see anything. It also meant no one saw the spectral figure of an engine before it vanished. 

The following afternoon, Edward was making his way down the branchline to Wellsworth for the _Scottish Flyer,_ which was being pulled by Douglas that day. As he approached the level crossing, he could've sworn he saw the faint outline of an engine before he lost sight of it. "I wouldn't be surprised if that was a ghost," the wise old engine murmured to himself. "What with all this paranormal activity going on." 

He arrived early, and waited patiently for Douglas. "Good morning, Edward." Douglas greeted. The two chatted happily for a while before Douglas departed on his way to Vicarstown. On Edward's return journey, his coaches were nervous. 

"There's something wrong, there's something wrong." They said. As Edward entered a tunnel, he heard the sounds of an engine getting closer and closer before it rushed past him with a blast of cold air. Edward sighed. 

It seemed Adam wouldn't change in his determination to help out and be useful, even after death.


	11. Haunted Wellsworth: The Flaming Ship

It had been a few days since Edward had encountered Adam's spirit, and he did his best to remind himself not to dwell on it. Boco gave him his space, and the wise old engine appreciated it. Bill and Ben, however, kept him company, but didn't speak of it. 

One day, Edward was preparing to leave Brendam with a stopping goods to Knapford. Normally Henry or Douglas would do this run from Wellsworth on, but Henry was taking a passenger and Douglas was going to Vicarstown with the _Scottish Flyer_. He was simmering in the sun when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw an old fashioned sailing ship. 

The wise old engine knew something was wrong. 

For one, the sails seemed to be on fire, and he couldn't hear the shouts of any sailors aboard the flaming ship. Then it vanished. Edward sighed, and decided to ask Salty, who worked at Knapford Harbour, about it. 

The following day, he got his chance. "Salty," Edward asked. "Have you heard anything about a burning ship?" Salty sighed. 

"Years ago," he said. "I was just freshly built, and, since I had been assigned to work at Southampton, was eagerly learning about the seas. One day, I heard about the _Holy Spirit_. It was near Sudric waters when she caught ablaze and sank." 

Edward smiled. "Thanks Salty. I think I saw it by Brendam." With that, he departed, leaving Salty lost in thought. 


	12. Great Waterton Horror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short book detailing why Great Waterton was abandoned to nature, and the real reasons behind the town being abandoned, told by four people...but not all of them are alive...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I saw NarrowGauge's newest Horrors of the Rails video, Great Waterton, so I decided to make my own version of it.

June 3rd, 2013. Journal of Jim Edwards, resident of Sodor.

I didn't know where to begin with this. Just over a year and I didn't know where the heck to start with this. I'm into urban exploration, and I usually go alone. I've walked along the old Mid-Sodor line dozens of times, a few times with my friends, but usually alone. 

Last year, on June 1st 2012, I was on my laptop watching a few urban exploration videos. They were interesting, but while I was listening-I had two tabs open-to the last one for the day, I was reading up on the Mid-Sodor line's history. Bored, I went to the search bar and typed in 'abandoned railway lines'. 

As usual, I got the usual answers: the Mid-Sodor line, the Kirk Ronan branchline (there was a article by the paper about the line's ongoing restoration, but I didn't read it), and the old Hamley line (which was restored back in the 1970's). Then I typed in 'abandoned railway stations' and instantly something caught my eye. The article was from 1900, March 6th. 

It was titled 'Great Waterton's Mine Disaster', and I wrote down some of the most interesting parts of it. 

_Great Waterton's Mine Disaster! After a routine blasting, miners entered Morgan's Mine to continue mining, but some of the ground gave away and made the lines for some of the mine carts dangerously unstable. While one of the carts, with about five miners packed inside, went down the unstable line to resume mining at the previous location while other miners went around._

_The cart was found derailed with four miners missing, and one badly hurt. Before his death, he said "the other four went over the side thinking they'd seen something. The fourth miner was the brakeman, and before jumping off the cart to his presumably death, told me not to jump over. Then he jumped, and I heard a splash." He died of his injuries shortly after. Another mineshaft caved in completely, killing twenty five miners._

_The decision has been made by the Sodor and Mainland to close the mine, citing "the fact that thirty miners have died in the mine is too much for the mine to continue its operations. We are regarded to have some of the safest mining and working conditions on the mainland," while the town of Great Waterton will be forced to fall back on its last option: waterworks._

I found in another article, dated October 1st of 1901, that the S&M went bankrupt, and closed the line to Great Waterton due to the waterworks drying up. The old town wasn't too far from where I lived, about an hour or so through the forest by Skarloey (the station, not the engine). The following year, in September of 1902, the town was declared abandoned, and left to nature. I didn't know if anyone else knew about it, but my parents were going to the mainland the next weekend to visit some friends, so I would be alone. 

The next day, when they left, I waited about thirty minutes before I left. I managed to catch a passenger train to Skarloey, and from there I was, essentially, on my own. I'd packed the essentials, my camera, my sketchbook, a few snacks, and a reusable water bottle. I do remember walking through the forest, even up to a overgrown path. 

I walked alongside the path, seeing small stones along the surprisingly big path. The path sort of dipped in the middle, then rose back up. Then I realized I was on the old trackbed, and quickened my pace. After about another twenty minutes or so, I reached the old station. The old, and now very rusty tracks, were still there after all these years, so I pulled out my camera to take a picture. 

After taking the picture, I entered the station building. It was quite dusty, and I managed to see a few old pictures of what I presumed (at the time. After getting out of Great Waterton I visited Neil at the Vicarstown Railway Museum to ask him a few questions and learned about the box tanks, or coffee pot engines-they're quite fascinating) to be station staff and a few box shaped engines. I did take a few pictures of those pictures and left the station. 

To be fair, I did think I'd get lost, but I was able to use the collapsed tower as a reference point. Then I began to explore the town. All of the buildings were identical, except for the church which I did visit, and they were all boarded up. I did see what appeared to be a sweet shop, toy shop, and even what appeared to be a butcher's shop. Then I began hearing footsteps. 

I thought it was another explorer close by, but I didn't call out. And that was a bad choice I made. When I turned around at the end of a cul-de-sac, I saw a man wearing a suite and a top hat while carrying a cane in his right hand. 

He looked at me disapprovingly, as if I'd stepped into an obvious trap. "You shouldn't have come here," he said, but I sensed a determination in his voice. "If you don't leave right now, you'll become a victim to that mechanical monster like we have." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw men, women, and children appearing, and they all had that disapproving face. 

I...I didn't think twice before leaving. I started out slowly, but by the time I'd hit the station platform I was in a full sprint. I heard a sound, a steam engine's whistle. But that was impossible. 

Great Waterton was too far from the mainline and the line had been ripped up. So I looked behind me. And that was possibly the biggest mistake I've ever made in my entire life. 

There, behind me, was a rusted steam engine. And I was sure that its eyes were red. I continued running, hearing its pistons moving as it chased me. 

I don't know how long I ran. I just know at some point I ran into the bushes where I'd initially came from, hearing the sound of the pistons vanish instantly. I sat down after what seemed like hours, but was probably around five minutes, taking a long drink from my water bottle. 

After that, it took me around another thirty minutes to get back to Skarloey in time to catch the passenger train back to Crovan's Gate. I never told my parents about it since I figured they wouldn't be too happy to learn I'd almost gotten myself killed. I did do a little more research on the S&M, learning that three of the four box engines had been scrapped. 

Truthfully, I think that the _real_ reason Great Waterton was abandoned is because of the metal monstrosity I saw. But nobody from the Sodor and Mainland's director's council survive excluding their descendants. Tomorrow, I'm going to visit the descendant of the last director of the Sodor and Mainland to see if they have a journal explaining the truth behind Great Waterton's abandonment. 

P.S., yes, I have started taking my friends who are also interested in urban exploration along with me. If I go back into Great Waterton, I know there's a chance I won't make it out, and if that happens I want them to tell my parents of my fate.


	13. Great Waterton Horror: Peter Michaelson's Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This journal was found by the last person to explore Great Waterton, and the journal's owner was found close by, deceased. Swearing warning.

May 18th, 2012. 

Hello. If you're reading this, you are reading not just my will, but also my final days on this earth. My name is Peter Michaelson, and I am trapped in Great Waterton. My food and water are limited, and I am bleeding from numerous injuries sustained trying to get away from the thing in the mine. 

I'm going to write down what has happened over the past couple of days. I'll mark the day I saw Great Waterton, and I'll mark today as well, although you can see it up top. I'll also mark down annotations.

May 12th, 2012. 

Today I went out camping with a mate of mine, Andrew 'Tens' Baker. We noticed an abandoned town near our campsite, but think we'll check it out on the fifteenth. We need more supplies before we enter the town anyway. There are rumours it's haunted though, but ghosts aren't real **(now I know better)**. Just things that go bump in the night. 

May 15th, 2012. 

We've reached our campsite again! But this time we're entering the town from the east side, away from the old station. I did a bit of research last night, and found out that there's a mine about ten minutes away, maybe less if we hurry. Andrew's interested in old abandoned mines like that, so it's likely we'll check out the mine first. 

But something about this town gives me the fuckin' creeps. I'm not one for backing out of things, though, and I haven't voiced my concerns to Andrew **(I should've. He'd still be alive then)**. We'll have a look at the mine, then we'll explore the town a bit before going inside the mine. To be fair, I'm more interested in the town than in the mine. 

We're staying at our campsite for the night before we go to the mine though. 

May 16th, 2012. 

Andrew woke me up at around six this morning, said he could hear the sound of a steam engine close by, even though we're far away from the mainline. I heard it too. We had breakfast at around nine this morning before we entered the old place **(but we shouldn't have entered)**. I've been to quite a few abandoned places, but this tops them all! This is truly a window into what life was like in the late 1800's/early 1900's. 

I...I don't like this town at all though. Something's...wrong about it somehow. Like something terrible happened here. But we're checking out the mine before we check out the town though, and that just fills me with dread. 

We had a looksie at the mine's marshalling yard, and it's like it was still in operation before everyone just vanished. Trucks with coal, stones, and even a few buildings are still here! I took a look inside one of the buildings, and it turned out to be an infirmary. But there were skeletal remains inside it. 

Something bad has happened here, I'm sure of it. As I'm writing this portion of my journal, we're inside the old town, sitting down on a really old bed. Pretty sure the bed was made in the 1880's. But we _heard_ someone or something inside that damn mine! 

Andrew's determined to go into the mine now and figure out what the hell caused that noise. 

* * *

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! I knew this was a bad fucking idea! 

There was something in the mine alright. Andrew stepped toward it and fell, dead on impact with the rocks at the bottom. I...it turned, and chased me after I found his corpse. It's still chasing me. 

On my way out, the entrance we came through began collapsing. I made it out, not without an injury though. A long gash along my arm and leg. 

Right now, I'm hiding in the infirmary. I've used the old bandages to wrap my injury, and I'm preparing to get my ass back to the town. To be one hundred percent honest, I'm scared. That...that thing sounded like a bloody Locust Beserker from _Gears of War_! 

Andrew, you bloody wanker. Fuck! 

* * *

May 17th, 2012. 

I made it back to the town. Tree came down and caught my leg, but I pulled it free. The Beserker chased me though, and it's in the town. Can't get to where I'm at though, it's too big to fit through the door! Haha! 

Andrew...bloody hell, mate. If you hadn't been so damn eager to check out the mine, you woulda lived, and we'd be out of this shithole by now.

* * *

May 18th, 2012.

I heard something. It's about two in the morning, and I swear I heard the sound of an engine's whistle. I don't know what the bloody hell woke me up though, but I'm making a run for it. I don't think it's the thing from the mine, but for now I'm just going to call it the Beserker. 

* * *

Damn Beserker found a way in! Managed to grab my shit and leave, but not without a rib being broken from being thrown into the stone wall. I'm dying, and I know it. 

My lungs are filling up with blood from the rib breaking in three and puncturing both of them. I've lost the Beserker for now at least. Right now, I'm by an old water tower. My lips are dry and cracked, and I'm hungry.

* * *

Everything's starting to fade slowly. Diana, do well in school. You get my laptop. Mum, pa, you get my Xbox if you want it. Jack, you get all my old toys from when I was a kid, so give 'em to your kids. Goodbye. 

Signed, Peter Michaelson.


	14. Great Wateron Horror: Alexandra Evans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journal of Alexandra 'Alex' Evans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The journal of Alexandra Evans.

March 18th, 2011.

Almost a year to the day since I explored...that town. I know, it was foolish of me, but, well, I just...I needed to put this down. Who knows, maybe someone will post a video of Great Waterton in 2020. 

Anyway, I am Alexandra 'Alex' Evans, and this is my story of horror from Great Waterton. 

On March 22nd, 2010, I learned about the abandoned town of Great Waterton for the first time, and it was primarily due to the Thomas and Friends movie _Thomas and the Great Discovery_. Naturally, I went along the old line (it was right behind where my house still stands) to Great Waterton's eastern entrance, where the station still stands. 

By this time, I'm inside the station, looking at the old photographs of station staff and old steam engines. I decided to take a few of the pictures as keepsakes, though, and donate them to the Railway Museum in Vicarstown. That's when I heard it. 

Despite my own beliefs about there being no afterlife (just purgatory), I began praying to God to save my soul after I got out of there, because what I heard...I can't describe it as anything else other than demonic. 

It was like the town had never closed, and, creepily enough, it sounded like a child laughing hysterically. Then it grew darker and deeper. My heart was pounding in my throat at this point, and I figured it knew where I was. 

So instead of walking out onto the platform to see what the heck was laughing, I instead went into the town. That...probably saved my life. Whatever that thing was, it screeched, and I passed out. 

When I woke up, it had been around thirty or so minutes. I walked back into the station, then, after glancing around on the platform, booked it. I, somehow, didn't lose or break anything when I passed out. 

A little note for future explorers: don't go into that place unless you have a death wish.


	15. Great Waterton Horror: Letter from Annabeth Williams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from Annabeth 'Wolf-Kissed' Williams, the last person to explore Great Waterton.

July 22nd, 2015. 

It's been just over two years since I went urban exploring. And to be quite frank, I don't think I want to. Not until I know the truth behind Great Waterton's closure. 

Oh, where are my manners? I am Annabeth Williams, and this is my story of horror in Great Waterton. 

I was a recluse in my secondary education due to me being, well, lesbian. My mother was fine with it because she herself was Catholic and was completely fine if I turned out to be straight, bi, or trans. My father...well, there's a reason why he doesn't have any place in my life. Grandmother and Grandfather were also fine with it, despite the fact that the way they'd been raised with stuck with them for a long time. 

But that's another story. 

Anyway, I was alone at home doing some reading about the older railways of Sodor. I mindlessly flipped through the pages. Knapford, Tidmouth, and Elsebridge Light Railway...Sodor and Mainland's line to Great Waterton...wait, what? I perked up. 

A long-disused line to an abandoned town? How amazing was that? I'd been doing some urban exploration before, mostly in the abandoned town of Harwick on Sodor's west coast, but the thing was I had experience with urban exploration. 

And if I'd known what I was going to get myself into, there's no way I would have ever gone to Great Waterton. No way at all. 

My mother also knew of my little...okay, maybe major urban exploring habit. It wasn't unhealthy! It got me out of the house, gave me time to breathe in fresh air! But still, she encouraged it. 

When I let her know about the abandoned town of Great Waterton, she got a faraway look in her eyes before her resolve steeled and she turned to me. "I don't want you going in there alone, Annabeth," mother said. "I'm coming with you." 

"Okay," I said. "Did you get a bad feeling about Great Waterton?" Yup, my mother had really strong gut feelings. That was the reason why she divorced my father. 

"Yes, I did." Mother replied. The following week, we left for Great Waterton. When Gordon left on the express run from Knapford to Vicarstown (which only stopped at Crovan's Gate), we were on our way. 

Then we got on the connecting train to Skarloey, and walked for an hour through the forest. When we hit the old line, we followed it to the station. Mother and I had agreed we'd stay away from the mine, but would explore the town. 

The atmosphere in the town felt...off. Like there had been a massacre and only one person lived. We found a few old papers, one of which read the following: _Ever since the line's closure was announced a week ago, Matthew has been slowly getting more and more mad. We've heard him talking to something at the mine, heard him talking to himself at the shed even. Neil's concerned, and rightfully so._

_This behavior isn't like Matthew. It's something else. Something...demonic. With the line closing in another month, we've called in a priest to try and help Matthew._

_Hopefully the priest will be able to cleanse Matthew of the darkness. But we, the people of the town, have been noticing something. Last night, a small group of four boys all went missing near the mine looking for their fathers, who are also missing. I have a nasty feeling it's to do with the line closing in a month and Matthew's seemingly unstoppable descent into madness. Signed, Mayor Steven Jackson, resident of Great Waterton._

When we explored over by the old water towers, and subsequently the long abandoned waterworks (one of which the roof had begun to give away, thus essentially preventing us from going inside), I smelled a four stench. "Mother," I asked. "What's that smell?" 

She sniffed the air, and instantly her face turned sour. "Might be the body of an animal," she suggested. "But worth looking for anyway." Then we found it. 

The decomposing body of a teenager, shirt and pants hanging off him with dried blood clinging to them, and, worst of all, I knew him. 

This was Peter Michaelson. He'd been my mate (for those unfamiliar with British terminology, the term 'best mate' means 'best friend' in the Americas) since I'd arrived on the island before my 14th birthday. He'd gone missing, along with his own best mate Andrew Baker. "Mother," I said. "T-that's Peter!" 

"The Michaelson's missing boy?" Mother replied, and I nodded silently. Without another word, I gently leaned down and picked up his journal, which was somehow intact. 

"No water damage," I remarked. I flipped the book open, skimming through the pages. Mother reached over, and gently closed it. 

"I don't know what the hell has happened here," mother said, concerning me because she normally didn't swear at all, "but we're leaving." When I went to protest, she eyed me and said firmly, "Now." Needless to say, we left. 

As we were leaving, I looked behind me, and saw a lone figure, standing on the platform. It was Peter! But we'd found his body not ten minutes ago! 

His dead green eyes looked at me, and I heard a voice in my head: "RUN!" I yelled, and bolted off the platform, mother running behind me as we heard the impossible sound of a steam engine's whistle. We scrambled through trees and bushes as we raced back to Skarloey, managing to catch the train before it left. 

We didn't talk on the way back home-we were still quite shaken up. When we reached John Michaelson's home, he seemed to know we were coming. "Ah, Kate, Annabeth," he greeted cheerfully. "I had a feeling you were coming today. Is there anything I can do for you?" 

"Would you mind getting the rest of your family together, John?" Mother asked. "My daughter and I...well, we found your son, Peter." His eyes lit up. 

"Of course!" He agreed eagerly, and quickly got the rest of his family. 

"Is Peter alright?" Peter's mother, a kind woman named Ashley, asked. 

I slowly shook my head, and brought out his journal. The looks of grief, and the murmuring of "no, no, no, no," got to me. Gently, I put his journal down on the table, and walked home along with mother. The next day, John stopped by, his eyes red from grief and mourning. "Peter...Peter would've wanted you to have it." John said quietly. "Honour his memory. Keep it." I accepted the grim gift, and I've kept the journal ever since. 

This letter to you, **[name redacted for privacy]** , has been the first time I've talked about my experience with Great Waterton. 

Signed, Annabeth Williams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone finds out where the 'Wolf-Kissed' part comes from, you will have my everlasting respect.


End file.
